


Homecoming Surprise

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-27
Updated: 2005-09-27
Packaged: 2018-10-27 18:34:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10814460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Tired and weary after two weeks on the road, thirty-one year-old Harry Potter receives a gift or two he wasn’t expecting. .





	Homecoming Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

Harry made sure to open the door quietly, not wanting to wake anyone up since it was well past midnight. He supposed he should have waited, and headed back in the morning like the rest of his team, but after two weeks on the road, he was ready to be home.

He hadn’t even bothered to change after the game, not anticipating the two-hour wait to gain Portkey access from France. Now he was dead tired and desperate to get out of his Cannon’s uniform. The whole house was dark, save one lone light flickering from the kitchen, and too tired to be bothered with a Lumos spell, Harry slipped off his shoes and made his way to the bedroom by memory. He would have made it too, if it wasn’t for the block lying in the hallway.

“Bloody hell--”

He cursed as he tripped, but he bit back his tirade in fear of waking the baby and carried on in silence, hobbling to the bedroom. His first instinct was to drop his bag the second he entered the room, but he looked to the bed and thought better of it, instead tip toeing around until he was at his closet. There he laid everything down, telling himself he’d unpack the sorry lot tomorrow.

Exhausted, he looked over at the bed once more seeing Ron curled up next to Hermione, one arm draped protectively over her bulging stomach. She was only four months pregnant, but it was already so obvious, and it looked to Harry liked she might have even grown a bit while he was gone.

He stared at the two of them for a while. Ron wore nothing but his pajama bottoms, his muscular back beautiful in the moonlight. Hermione looked so small next to his large frame, even with her growing stomach. Her long, shapely legs, which Harry knew were silk to touch, plainly visible since the covers had been kicked to the foot of the bed. Ron was warm blooded, he hated the covers, and Hermione always got hot when she was pregnant, so for once, they fit together perfectly. Any other time, Hermione would be bundled up to her neck, and Ron would be kicking the sheets off, leaving Harry halfway covered in the middle. But he never minded. The battle over the sheets had earned him the cherished place in the middle, and that was just where he liked to be. After a long childhood so alone, being surrounded by loving arms never stopped to be a miracle.

He missed his spot, looking at it almost longingly, but he didn’t want to wake them up, especially Hermione who had been battling with horrible morning sickness. She needed her sleep, so he sighed, just starting to work up the will to sleep on the couch after a long day of fantasizing about his bed, when Ron stirred. His Auror training never allowed him to sleep for long, and he could always sense someone watching him. Heavy lidded, he gently let go of Hermione and turned over.

“Harry?” Ron looked a bit shocked as he rubbed his eyes. “I thought you weren’t coming home until tomorrow.”

“Couldn’t wait.”

“Oh, mmm. . . What time is it?” Ron mumbled, still rubbing at his eyes, and then running a hand over his face.

Harry smiled at him. He always found Ron so attractive when he was groggy and still half asleep, with his hair standing up at odd angles. “Past midnight. . . Go back to sleep.”

“No, I’m up.” Ron shook his head and sat up. “Have you eaten?”

“I’m fine. . . Really, don’t get up. I can kip on the couch.”

“Don’t be daft,” Ron said loudly, and then pulled a face when he glanced at Hermione and lowered his voice. “I’ll heat you something up and then you can come to bed.”

Harry wanted to say no, not to bother, but the food on the road was such crap, and Ron’s cooking was almost as good as his mother’s. He’d missed it nearly as much as his bed and he was starving.

Taking his silence as a yes, Ron got up, stretching once before he padded, barefoot out of the bedroom. Harry was right behind him when Ron stumbled.

“Bugger, fuck me,” he yelped, hopping on one foot and glaring at floor. “Bloody blocks! He scatters them everywhere. I’m always tripping over them.”

“Sorry,” Harry said, feeling the need to apologize for James.

“What are you sorry for?” Ron whispered, finally remembering to lower his voice. “He’s mine too, Harry,” Ron said, hobbling back towards the kitchen. “I may not be his biological father. . . But he’s still my son.”

“I know. I just don’t want him to be any trouble to you,” Harry said, not knowing quite how to put his feelings into words.

“He’s an angel,” Ron said, smiling at him. “I just wish he’d stop scattering the damn blocks.”

“He’s two, that’s what they do,” Harry said, smiling to himself, suddenly struck with the urge to go watch his son sleep for a bit.

“I know,” Ron said, pulling the icebox open and looking into it. “I don’t know how we’re going to handle things in a few months. One is enough work.”

“It makes you wonder how other parents do it. There’s three of us. . .and we’re still worn out.”

Ron laughed and then looked him over, taking in his Cannon’s uniform and Harry felt a tug of desire when he saw the hot look in his eyes. Two weeks was a very long time.

“Why are still in your uniform? Your game must have ended hours ago.” Ron asked, arching an eyebrow. “Did you wear it for me?”

“Maybe,” Harry said, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms.

“You do look damn good in that uniform. . . I could never get tired of it.”

Harry laughed as a surge of longing went through him. “I know. . . Why else do you think I joined up with a miserable team like the Cannons?”

“Hey!” Ron said, though he was smiling and still looking at him that hungry way that made Harry squirm. “Not so miserable anymore. . . You lot may just make it to the World Cup this year. I could kiss you for that.”

“Then why don’t you?”

Not needing any further encouragement, Ron reached out to him, grabbing one of Harry’s hands and jerking him forward, until Harry was flattened against his hard chest. Ron’s lips crashed down on his, and Harry’s groan was muffled as Ron’s tongue thrust into his mouth. Harry’s fingers tangled in his hair, headless of the Quidditch gloves he still wore and pure lust drove through his system, white hot and blinding.

“God, I’ve missed you,” Ron moaned, pulling away to run his lips down to the curve of Harry’s throat, and biting at the tender skin possessively. “Do you see what I sacrifice for the Cannon’s to have a good team. . . Who says I’m not a loyal fan?”

Ron tugged on his robes, haphazardly pulling them open until they hung loose on his shoulders. Harry’s gut clenched in anticipation when Ron dropped to his knees in front of him, heedless of the hard kitchen tile. He pushed Harry’s shirt up to run his tongue over the hard muscles of Harry’s stomach. Then Ron moved upwards, sucking and biting at Harry's nipple, until his knees nearly gave way and he had to grip at the counter for support.

“Christ, Ron, stop teasing,” Harry rasped, gripping at Ron’s hair to push him lower again. “Two weeks is a bloody long time.”

Ron slowly worked open the fastening to Harry’s trousers, purposely torturing him. Harry held his breath when Ron finally freed his cock, arching an auburn eyebrow at the hardened length.

“Sooo, what do I get in return?” Ron asked, trying and failing not to smirk. “I am on my knees here, mate. . . I think that deserves proper payment.”

“Anything you want,” Harry said desperately, his hips thrusting forward of their own accord. “Just do it. . . Two weeks with only my hand for company, and you’re bargaining. You’ve had Hermione all this time.”

“Yeah, but Hermione’s not you,” Ron said, his gaze running over Harry until he met his eyes. “We miss you when you are gone. . .You have no idea how much.”

Harry sighed in exasperation, his cock throbbing with need as Ron’s breath grazed it. “What do you want Ron? I already promised you anything.”

“I want you,” he said, his eyes, indigo pools of desire as he looked up at Harry, gauging his reaction. “I want you bent over that counter begging me to fuck you.”

Harry’s knees did buckle that time as Ron’s words made erotic images swirl in his head. “Oh, bugger. . .yes, fine. . .” he choked out, not knowing why Ron even had to ask. Harry had never denied him. “Just do it, suck it. . . I’m in pain here.”

Ron’s tongue flicked against the tip of Harry’s cock, and then he took the length of it into his mouth and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Pleasure flowed over him in waves as he worked him with his hands and his tongue. He’d almost forgot just how fucking good Ron was at this, not even Hermione could get him off the way Ron could.

Harry was barely able to open his eyes as he looked down, seeing Ron’s mouth wrapped around his cock. The image was so erotic, Harry almost came right then and embarrassed himself. Unable to stand it, he threw his head back and groaned, letting his fingers tangle into Ron’s fiery hair, strands of it getting caught in his gloves that he should have removed before they’d got started, but couldn’t be bothered now.

He was right at the edge as the coil of pleasure tightened, about to spring free. His hips were thrusting forward, his jaw locked to keep from begging and stars were practically bursting behind his closed eyelids when Ron stopped, releasing him with a pop that had Harry slumping against the counter and gapping at him.

“What are you doing?” he gasped as Ron stood, pulling down his pajama bottoms in the process so that his erection sprang free from its confines.

“I’m fucking you. . . Wasn’t that the deal?”

“You cheating bast--”

“Just turn around,” Ron growled, leering at him suggestively. “I was about to come in my pants you sounded so good. I can’t wait any longer.”

He hadn’t heard Ron sound so desperate since they were teenagers. Harry’d be lying if he said it didn’t turn him on, and besides, he was desperate. Obediently, he shrugged out of his Quidditch robes, letting them drop to the floor and turned around until he was gripping the counter. He was so out of his mind with lust and need he didn’t even hear Ron cast a lubrication charm, until he was slipping two slick fingers inside him.

“Spreads your legs a little, Harry.” Ron leaned in to him until his hard, bare chest rested against Harry’s back. “Yeah, like that. . . Merlin, you feel good.” He moaned, working his fingers deeper, stretching him. “You’re always so tight. . . I’ve been dying for this. . . for you. . .”

Harry shoved his fist in his mouth, biting down hard on the leather glove as Ron’s fingers fucked him, making him ache for more. His erection was bordering on painful, and he just knew he’d suffer for the rest of the night if Ron didn’t hurry up.

“Come on,” Harry begged, pushing back against Ron’s hand in hopes of getting a measure of relief, but ended up more tortured as pleasure and need darted through him.

He nearly sobbed with relief when Ron pulled his hand away, and gripped his hips, pulling him tighter against him until his cock rested at Harry’s opening. His eyes rolled back as Ron pushed into him slowly, filling him almost painfully. When he was buried fully inside him, Ron rested his forehead against Harry’s shoulder.

“I just want to feel you for a second,” he groaned, his heavy breathing stirring the sensitive skin on Harry’s neck. “I really have missed you.”

In spite of it all, Harry smiled, though Ron couldn’t see it. “I’ve missed you too,” he rasped, trying to stay still and let Ron enjoy the moment, but failed miserably. “Now hurry up and fuck me, you prat.

Ron’s choked laugh swiftly turned into a drawn out moan as Harry arched back against him. He pulled out half way only to push in deeper as he whispered in Harry’s ear. “I told you I’d have you begging.”

Harry just grunted his defeat, losing himself completely as Ron started moving in him. His skin was heated, his mind hazed as Ron fucked him, licking at his neck, biting at his shoulder as his thrusts became harder, more demanding. Hot, deviant, delirious passion crashed over both of them. Ron’s hands were gripping at his hips and slipping under Harry’s shirt to run over his bare chest possessively, as he breathed broken phrases of worship and adoration into Harry’s ear, making him wonder who was really the one begging.

Once again, Harry was cursing his fucking Quidditch gloves. He released the counter to pull them off, but Ron reached out to stop him. “Leave them on. . . I’ll bring you off.”

In no position to argue, Harry gripped at Ron’s hand, bringing it to his mouth and licking slowly over his palm as Ron’s hips jerked in reaction. Ron’s large hands always turned him on, and he found himself lapping at his fingers, and then sucking them into his mouth, as an outlet for the building tension.

“Oh fuck, I love when you do that,” Ron moaned, sounding almost reluctant when he pulled his hand away from Harry’s mouth. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

Harry’s head whipped back against Ron’s shoulder when his spit slicked hand grasped Harry’s cock, the length of it sliding easily through Ron’s fingers as he stroked him. He was pushing back against Ron now, urging him on. Their moans penetrated the silent flat, both of them temporarily forgetting about Hermione and the baby sleeping.

It was too much, there was too much stimulation, it had just been too fucking long and Harry found himself coming. He reached behind him and gripped Ron’s hair as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over him. It was binding, pulsating, bliss and Harry could do nothing but slump against the counter when it finally started to pass. Ron’s thrusts became erratic and then he too came undone, gasping out Harry’s name between expletives, as he tensed and shuddered behind him.

For a long moment they were still, both breathing hard, and then Harry felt Ron laughing silently, his body shaking until his voice caught up. “I think I burned your dinner. . . Sorry, mate.”

For the first time, Harry noticed the smell of burning food in the air and laughed too. “You’re forgiven. . . You have no idea how badly I needed that.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Ron said, nuzzling his lips against Harry’s neck, and then licking at his sweaty skin. “You got me feeling eighteen again. I may not be able to walk for a week.”

“Hey! We aren’t that old,” Harry complained, though at the moment he could see where Ron was coming from, his legs were barely holding him up, and Ron’s added weight wasn’t helping.

“We’re getting there. Thirty-one isn’t young,” Ron said, and then sniffed once and Harry could feel him wrinkle his nose against his skin. “You stink, Harry.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“Why don’t you go take a shower, and I’ll fix you something else to eat.”

Harry thought to argue, but he did need a shower and he was still hungry. He nodded as he pulled away from Ron, and then leaned down to rummage around in his clothes until he found his wand and performed a quick cleaning spell on both of them. Shagging in the kitchen, Hermione may never forgive them. He moved to pick up his Quidditch robes, but Ron stopped him and shooed him away, mentioning once again that he was in desperate need of a shower.

Not wanting to wake Hermione, Harry opted to shower in the second bathroom, and quickly divested himself of his remaining clothing and got in. The hot water was like heaven on his skin. Between a long Quidditch match, traveling, and shagging, he was beyond weary. Ron was right, it all seemed easier when they’d been eighteen, but it didn’t matter so much. A few aching bones was worth it, he felt happy.

He leaned against the tile, resting his forehead against his arm, as he let the water beat against his back, and was almost half asleep when he heard someone enter the bathroom. Thinking it was Ron, he called out. “What happened to my dinner?”

“The last time I tried to cook you dinner you swore it was a ploy you poison you.”

Harry’s head snapped up, and he looked at Hermione through the foggy shower door. Already half blind, he had to squint, but he saw enough to know that she was naked, and it affected him.

Old his arse.

“Shame on you, shagging in the kitchen,” Hermione chastised as she pulled open the shower door and stepped in. “We have a bed.”

Harry laughed, reaching out to her and pulling her to him, savoring the feel of her wet, silky skin against his. “Did we wake you?”

“Yes, it’s a wonder the neighbors aren’t beating on the walls.”

Her rounded belly bumped against his hard abdominal muscles, and he ran one hand lovingly over it, marveling again at how much she’d grown in the short time he’d been away. “You’ve got bigger.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Hermione groaned, leaning into him and resting her cheek against his chest. “Is that why you and Ron snuck off for a shag. . . You think I’m fat and ugly?”

“I think you’re beautiful. You could never be ugly. I like you pregnant. . . Very sexy.”

“Liar,” Hermione laughed, smacking his chest half-heartedly.

“No, it’s true.” Harry waggled his eyebrows and pulled her closer to him so that his erection brushed the underside of her round belly.

“Impressive.” Hermione said, arching an eyebrow as she pulled away and looked down at him.

“Can pregnant ladies shag in the shower?”

“It probably wouldn’t be a great idea,” Hermione said, sounding a bit disappointed. “Especially one who’s pregnant with twins.”

Harry lost his footing and would have fell, dragging Hermione down with him if it weren’t for his seeker reflexes. As it was, he scrapped his back painfully against the shower knob as he stumbled back. He pulled away, gapping at Hermione as he rubbed the injury.

“Way to break it to him gently,” Ron said dryly, having snuck up on them at some point. “You’re lucky he didn’t just kill both of you. . . A fall would have been bad.”

Harry was still gapping, trying to process Hermione’s words. “Twins? I don’t. . . how. . .”

“Ask your mate over there,” Hermione said, tilting her head towards Ron, trying and failing to look angry as a small smile graced her face.

Not knowing what else to do, Harry laughed incredulously. “Oh my God, please tell me you’re kidding. . . We’re having Weasley twins?”

“She wouldn’t joke about that,” Ron said, finally pulling the shower door open, headless of the water spilling out onto the floor. “When we found out from the mid-wife that she was carrying twins, we did a blood test to see whose they were. We wanted to wait until you got home to tell you.”

“Oh, wow,” Harry said, and he couldn’t help the excitement that leaked into his voice. “Twins, that just. . . wow. . .”

“Yeah, twin boys, can you believe it?” Ron said, a huge smile lighting up his face. “I told you we were going to have our hands full.”

“You weren’t kidding.” He turned to Hermione and leaned down to kiss her, mumbling against her lips. “Three sons, love, you are going to be hopelessly outnumbered.”

Hermione’s tongue darted out to lick his lips sensually. “Yeah, well, I know how to handle boys.”

“You sure do,” Harry said, looking down at her wet, naked body, and once again rubbing a hand lovingly over her protruding stomach. “I’ll grab a quick bite, and then you can let Ron and I make up for leaving you out earlier.”

“Sounds good, but you don’t have to make up for much,” Hermione said and then smiled mischievously. “I watched.”


End file.
